MIA in MIA

Call DCF and report me for neglect. I am in grad school, so this was to be expected, but some pretty ridiculous things have happened to me thus far, and being the good little social worker in training that I am, I'm all about documentation. So here's what's been going on for the last two months.

Quick stats:
Number of Palmetto bugs I've encountered: 2
Number of lizards I've discovered in my apartment: 2
Number of lizards I was able to catch: 1
Times I've cried because I was homesick: 1
Number of boys I've dated: 2
Number of all-nighters I've had to pull: 1
Number of good friends I've accumulated: 4
Number of enemies I've accumulated: 2
Number of visits I've gotten from my homies: 1
Number of times I've been home: 1
Number of times I've had car trouble: 2 (and counting)
Number of dollars in my bank account: YIKES!

The Skinny:

School- Well I can't say this is what I expected out of graduate level classes, but I'm chalking it up to it being the first semester: the subject matter is boring, they're easing us into it, and it sucks cause we had no choice about classes or professors. Maybe next semester will be better.

Internship- I'm interning at an elementary school as a school social worker. I have a ridiculous amount of responsibility and almost no supervision. I'm afraid I'm going to royally screw up someone's life. But mostly I like it.

Friends- Pretty quickly after classes started I developed a core group of friends. We go out almost every Friday and we're pretty and fun and for the most part single. There is one friend I have here (we'll call her Trudy) who I adore and although it's only been a couple of months, I really trust her and know if I'm in a bind she'll look out for me. Excellent. That's exactly what I needed.

Boys- Well this is probably my favorite topic, as I've come to the realization that after 3 1/2 years of being single, I'm ready for a relationship if the situation presents itself. In other words, if the right guy comes along, I think I could commit to exclusivity. I'm by no means "searching", however.

So, boy #1, we'll call him George so as not to confuse him with #1. George made a very good first impression, and was a very promising prospect. He's very attractive and exactly my type. Tall, muscley, but not too much, and Spanish with a hint of an accent. Our first date went so well. He was a gentleman, spent a decent amount of money on me, asked interesting questions, was very easy to talk to and he made me feel extremely comfortable, which is quite the accomplishment for a first date. Frankly, it didn't really feel like a first date at all. No awkward silences or anything. After that we talked on the phone nearly everyday, and anytime I texted him, he would call me to see how I was. Our third date was to South Beach on a Saturday night as I'd mentioned I'd never been. He spent a ton of money on me that night as well and I had the best time dancing bachata and salsa and reggaeton with him...something I rarely get to do. It was great. Did I mention he carries a gun? He consistently carries a gun. With a CCW license of course. I investigated to make sure this was legit. I like guns, so that was alright with me. But then there was red flag #1. It was time to launch the rocket, but there was no lift off. This happened not once, not twice, but three times in our rather short ordeal. Then red flag #2. He's homophobic. And beyond homophobic, he's somewhat hateful of gay people. I kicked him out of my apartment one night after discussing the issue and seriously wondered if I should just end it there. I didn't have to do much more thinking, because then there was red flag #3. He asked to stick a cucumber in my special place. Seriously. And then it was over.

And along came boy #2. We'll call him Josh. During the time George and I were seeing each other Josh and I became friends. We talked daily. Josh is not at all my type. Blonde hair, blue eyes, listens exclusively to music most people don't know, and can't possibly picture him at a club. We went out to eat together, but we split the check; it was on a strictly friends level. We even discussed the fact that we were just friends. So one Saturday night we were chatting on AIM and decided since we both were doing nothing, we should do nothing together. So I drove over to his apartment, sat on the couch, and we turned on Pulp Fiction at around midnight. If you don't know, Pulp Fiction is quite long. Anyway, we got about 75% of the way through the movie when we both got cold and shared a blanket, but still no funny business. 90% of the way through the movie, though he holds my hand. This has me confused because frankly
I imagined this was a possibility, but since it was 3 am and we'd been watching the movie for about 2 hours and 40 minutes already, I thought nothing would happen. At any rate the movie ended, one thing led to another and, well, you get the rest. But I broke a very important rule of mine. More than a rule. A commandment in the Book of Pepper. A cardinal sin. An abomination. A commandment I have not broken since I instated it in 2006. Thou shalt not sleep over. And the following week when he cooked me a delicious dinner, I broke it again.

I'm not a typical girl in that I don't get attached just because I knock boots with a guy. The act of literally sleeping together is in a lot of ways more intimate to me, which is why I have that very strict rule. And here I am this Saturday night missing Josh. He's away visiting his family and I'm lost, as my weekends have taken on a comfortable pattern: Friday night=girls' night out. Saturday night=Night with the flavor of the week (or month, as the case may be).

At any rate, Josh and I are going to see Where the Wild Things Are after he returns from his mini-vacation and I couldn't be more excited.

And now my first two months in Miami have officially been documented. I'll try to do better, I promise.